


railroads.

by Irrwisch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Boys Kissing, Developing Friendships, Driver Dean Winchester, Friendship, Gen, Getaway Cars, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Minor Character Death, Railroads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 00:04:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15896856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrwisch/pseuds/Irrwisch
Summary: To pay Sam's student debts, Dean works as a getaway-driver. It's not a job he enjoys, but alas, it did pay good money. He'd been assigned to someone new today and that guy was already too late. It figured he'd get the useless one. Only Castiel knows exactly what he does and when he does it and Dean needn't worry at all. Castiel is odd and strange and while he doesn't really changes anything in Dean's life, it feels different nonetheless.





	railroads.

_“Tell me you’ll remember me.”_

~*

 

 

_The boy was wandering next to the railroads._ _He was a lone creature and it took a while to spot him. It was dark, and technically, he wasn’t allowed to be up. He saw him anyway, and every night, the boy wandered next to the same part of the railroads. Many nights, it was like a dream, a dearly held secret nobody was allowed to know about._

_He didn’t tell his mom, and he didn’t tell his dad. The boy next to the railroads underneath the stars was his and his alone. Knowing about him was like being part of a secret cult, like some sort of revelation._

 

~*

 

Dean was getting anxious. It was probably a bad sign. In this line of work, timing was very much of the essence. So what was this guy taking so long? The boss sold it as an easy in-and-out job, so why the stupid delay? He started tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. If this kept up, he’d be out of gas and they’d be _really_ fucked. And he also had to pick Sammy up, and he’d rather do it in another car. So if this guy could please hurry up, that’d be great.

More minutes passed, and Dean started getting pissed. Why was the useless newbie assigned to him? And, more importantly, why did nobody teach him about the importance of timing? He was almost ready to storm in and find this guy to drag him out and give him a good beating. The car door opened then and Dean groaned. “Fucking finally! What took you so long?!” Dean didn’t care that he yelled as loudly as he did. “Drive”, the other man said and Dean almost howled. But he did drive. After all, that was why he was here for.

“Watched you”, the man said, and he slurred a bit. “Always angry?” Dean’s brow furrowed. “What the hell do you mean, newbie? And what’s with that slur? Are you drunk in addition to being slow?” “No”, the man said, “and I am not being slow.” Funnily, that sentence was delivered rather slowly, as if spoken with great care and concentration. Of course Dean would get the new loser freak. “Oh yeah? I waited ten minutes for you, asshole. Didn’t anyone tell we are kinda _precise_ on the timing of all things?!” The man tapped on the dashboard. “Told you”, he then said. “Watched you.” Dean groaned. In addition to being the loser freak, he also needed to get the creepy one. “Next one right.” Dean huffed. “Now you wanna tell me how to do my stupid job?” “Roadblock”, the man countered without really regarding Dean. “Don’t be stupid, that wasn’t in the news.” The man shook his head. “Not news. Police will be there. Trevor was not good. Threw off the roof.” Dean was flabbergasted. “How’d you know that? Trevor tell you via telepathy or what?” The man frowned. “No. But Trevor panics easily. Was up, and then was down. Again, Roadblock. Turn right.” And Dean did.

 _“Dean”_ , came a voice out of his radio, _“change of plans. Find a different route. That asshole Trevor messed up and threw the guy_ off the fucking roof _. If they don’t catch him, I will kill him. Out.”_

Dean was absolutely stunned. How did his guy know that? Maybe he worked with Trevor before. Yeah, that must be it; and that’s why he knew Trevor would panic so easily. “You worked with Trevor before?” The guy made a nonchalant sound. “Don’t know why I would. Trevor not exactly useful. And; two is one too much.” Huh. That was a definite no, then. “Still save to get to the switch car?” “Yes”, the guy replied, looking at his phone. “You take the switch car. I will keep this one.” Dean grimaced. Jeez, that guy was clearly trying very hard to be difficult. “Listen, buddy, I gotta take you back, right? To close the mission, write your report, whatever you guys do after a job? I can’t just let you take off in a _wanted_ car.” The guy seemed irritated when he looked up at Dean. “Not a wanted car. No-one looks for it. Can take it? Will be scrapped regardless.” Dean almost groaned. “It’s not about the car, man. You need to go back to the safe-house, okay? It’s procedure. I’ve been doing this a few years, I know how this works.” “No”, the guy replied, yet again, and Dean wasn’t sure how he sounded so freaking sure of himself every time. “Not work for the Voice. Voice wants my help, but I don’t work for it.” “What’s the Voice?” That sounded ominous. The guy tapped Dean’s radio. “The Voice”, he said, “that speaks to you. Don’t work for it.” Dean was a bit baffled. “But you’re here, and I was told to pick you up. So… you’re what? A free-lancer?” The guy tilted his head, thinking. “No”, he said then. “Someone else. The Voice wants me, so here I am. Apparently, too many Trevors.” Dean laughed. Well, that was true, at least.

“So, uh, how soon they’re gonna look for us?” “Next week”, came the smooth reply and Dean almost lost his lane right there. “What?! You didn’t kill him? Crowley’s gonna have your head, man! That’s why you don’t wanna go to the safe-house?” “I did”, the man said calmly without giving into Dean’s aggression. “They will believe a heart-attack. Will take awhile until they realize it isn’t. Will also take awhile for them to look for this car. I _know_ what I’m doing, Dean. It’s not my first time, after all.”

“Why are you slurring?” The guy did a double-take, clearly not expecting that topic change. “I can’t really hear myself. I’m mostly deaf, ever been.” He shrugged. “So, was never really taught. Usually, am not supposed to talk during job. When have to talk, I practice. Keep it at minimum, though.” “But then you couldn’t hear someone coming.” The guy frowned. “Why should anyone come? Normal day, normal people. Why come, when everything’s normal? I say good-bye, I leave. Two hours later, someone’s dead. Nobody remembers me.” The guy sure was confident in his abilities. “What’s your name, buddy?”

“Castiel”, he said and that sounded just weird enough to be true. Castiel smiled. “Hello, Dean. Will look forward to working with you. We have lots of work.”

 

\--

 

Dean was lounging on his crappy couch two days later. Jody would be coming over later this evening to have dinner with him – mom-bonding time, or something like that. Dean always got nervous whenever she decided to drop by. Was it just a visit; or did she come to lock him up? Dean hadn’t been sure what the name of the guy was that Castiel killed, but there had been a report about a death at the same building, so it should’ve been the same guy.

Crowley also called. Trevor – god knows why – was assigned for a contract in four days time, and his usual driver had gotten sick. Lucky fellow broke his leg and couldn’t drive a car now. So Dean had to hop in and _really_ hope Trevor wouldn’t pull any stupid stunt like he usually did. Castiel seemed utterly fucked up, but at least well-put together. Castiel… now that his mind had wandered there, Castiel was weird. He seemed to really know what he was doing, but there was something off about him. Dean wouldn’t say about himself that he could sniff out killer-potential in a person, or something like that, but there was something about Castiel that just didn’t seem to click. It was like there was more to it than just being a job for the guy.

Dean was pondering what it could be, and then his doorbell rang. He figured it must be Jody. He hoped she’d be okay with take-out, because he wasn’t really in the mood to cook. He went over to the door and was very pleased to see Jody standing there, take-out already in hand. “You’re the best”, Dean said and took the food. “You can go now, Jody.” She huffed and punched him in the arm. “Let me in. You know I can kick your door down.”

She steers to the couch steadfast and she plops down. “Are we watching something fun tonight?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “You wanna watch something? What’s happened to our soul-felt talks?” She waved her hand. “Three deaths a week, I’m down for something fun.” Dean picked up two forks. “Three? I’ve only read about the one in that office building. And the one dude who fell from the roof.” Still, dumbass Trevor. Jody sighed. “Yeah, there was a priest who suffocated in his car. We think the car’s malfunctioned.” Dean sat down next to her, handing her the food and fork. “You think? Don’t you guys need to be hundred percent sure?  Want me to look at that car?” Jody shook her head. “Nah, I’ve already commissioned it to be crushed. It was a malfunction, nothing else. I won’t let it be anything else.” Dean was a bit hesitant. That sounded strange, like Jody didn’t believe it was an accident. Jody, woman that she is, could apparently detect his state and indulged him a little more: “The priest that did was terrible, Dean. He’s assaulted countless choir boys as young as five, got at least six underage-girls pregnant and drove four of them into suicide. The other two, as far as I know, got disowned and disappeared. He was very in favor bringing back the stoning for anyone who strayed from God’s path. He only died yesterday, and we already have all that information, Dean. I don’t care if someone killed that guy or if the car did justice. Whoever, or whatever, it was deserves my utmost thanks. And if it was _someone_ , I don’t wanna know, so I never have to look for them.”

“Dean”, came from the door. “I require assistance.” Dean jumped from the couch, because what the fuck was he doing here and how the fuck did he even get in? Jody turned towards the door and frowned. “You didn’t tell me you expected friends over, Dean.” Castiel, in the meantime, came in the apartment as if he’d done it countless times. He strolled right next to the couch. “I apologise. Didn’t know Dean had someone over. However, I require his help. I am Castiel. Hello.” He didn’t make a move to offer his hand to Jody. Whether he maybe didn’t want to or wasn’t used to it, Dean wasn’t sure. He was still freaking out that Castiel was in his freaking home. “Well, my name’s Jody. I don’t think Dean’s ever mentioned you?” She gave a _look_ to Dean. He didn’t really see it, because he was staring at Castiel like he was a freak show. “We’ve only been acquainted recently. But alas, I require his help on a somewhat important matter. My… _people skills_ are questionable at best, and conversation can be rather difficult. Dean, however, has no such problems.” “What the fuck”, Dean blurts out; “why the fuck can you talk?” By that, Castiel did look surprised. Dean was almost proud of himself because of it. “I have an aid”, Castiel replied. “But I don’t like it much.” “An aid? Like a hearing aid?” Castiel nodded. “I’m mostly deaf and when I grew up, talking was not something I did often. I tend to be short in my sentences. I’m trying, though.”

“You sound fine to me.” Castiel blushed a little at that and this was just a strange sight. “Thank you. Get better the more I do talk.” He turned to Dean. “Will you help me, Dean? I’d prefer… back-up.” Dean clenched his jaw. “Is this for work?” Castiel hesitated. “…no. Off the clock. Later, maybe. Not today. Will come?” For some reason, Castiel looked nervous. Dean nodded and he got rewarded by a smile. “Go now?” Dean looked to Jody and he was unsure what that smirk was doing on her stupid face. “It’s okay, I’ll just go bother Sam on the phone then. Tell him about your _date_.” Castiel tilted his head and Dean threw a shoe at her. “It’s not a freaking date, woman!”

 

\--

 

Dean parked the Impala across a gay nightclub. Needless to say, Dean was surprised. “You need me to teach you to dance, or what? Just flail your arms, man.” Castiel looked kinda displeased about that comment. “No, Dean. Loud inside. People slur. Hard to read lips because light bad. Also, have no real plan for tonight. Know person inside.” “You’re staking someone? I thought we were off the clock? Should I call Crowley?” Castiel shook his head. “No”, he simply replied and got out of the car. Dean groaned and followed. Maybe there’d be a straight girl inside there he could hit up. Charlie would kill him if she ever knew he went to a gay club without her.

They entered and the music really was loud. Dean headed straight to the bar and sat down on a stool there. Castiel followed behind him rather nervously, like he’s never been in a club. Gingerly, he sat down and started studying the menu. “You ever been at a club, Cas?” He shook his head. “No”, he said a bit too loud. “Always loud?” Dean nodded and Castiel made a face. The bartender came over. “Whatcha want, fellows?” He asked and Castiel squinted. “I’ll have whatever’s on tab”, Dean said and was unsure if he should just order for Castiel as well. Maybe  the guy didn’t even drink or something… “A Mai Tai, please.” The bartender smiled and disappeared again. “Mai Tai? Isn’t that like a girl drink, man?” Castiel squinted. “The picture looks nice”, he said while pointing at it. Dean sighed.

The bartender returned with their drinks and Castiel took a sip and smiled at Dean. “Good. Want to?” Dean smiled forcefully and declined. He’d rather stick to beer, and he had the Impala here. He wouldn’t leave her here over the whole night. Someone might hurt her and that couldn’t stand. Castiel shrugged and looked over at the people dancing. Dean really hoped the guy wouldn’t make him dance. Castiel slurped at his cocktail, and then he released the straw. “Found him”, he said, still a bit too loud. Dean guessed being almost deaf meant having volume difficulties. “Okay”, Dean said. “So what? We go over and drag him over here? Corner him in the bathroom?” Dean grinnend, sure Castiel wouldn’t catch his meaning. He shook his head. “Two guys bathroom. Doing fellatio. Bad for talking.” He slid of his stool and looked at Dean. Dean raised an eyebrow, preparing to say something when Castiel grabbed his neck and clashed their mouths together.

Dean’s eyes widened in shock and he sat there completely frozen. He wasn’t sure what was happening. Was Castiel _kissing_ him? It wasn’t even a soft, nice kiss. It was harsh, hard and demanding. Standing, Castiel was a bit taller than Dean sitting. Dean wriggled his hips because _no_ , that dominating thing didn’t do anything to him and he should _really_ stop Castiel, why didn’t he think of that before… Castiel removed himself, looked at Dean a moment and then turned around. Dean sat there, baffled, staring after him.

“Man, brother, your boyfriend almost devoured you.” The bartender seemed to speak from an outside dimension. Boyfriend. That was a strong word, and Dean was utterly confused. Why did Cas do that? But the word was there, now, and Dean looked at Cas. If you extracted the killing-thing, Cas didn’t seem to be so bad. He wasn’t packed with muscles, but there was undeniable strength in that body. Dean shifted on his seat. Damn, why did he have to have a thing for being dominated? It must be the influence of the club. Yeah, that must be it. It was all the influence of the club when he felt something akin to jealousy when he saw Cas talk to a guy and then dance with him. Dean downed his beer in a solid swing and finished Cas’ stupid cocktail for him. It tasted like garbage and he would never admit the truth.

Dean was on his third beer – and he hasn’t been glancing in the direction of the dance-floor every twenty seconds – when Cas returned to his side. “Thanks, Dean”, he said. “I’ll leave now.” Dean was angry. Why did he have to come in the first place? He hadn’t been doing anything, except getting really confused and kissed. He turned around to give Castiel a piece of mind, when he pressed his mouth against his, _again_. But Dean was prepared this time. Two and a half beer gave him confidence and he pressed back. Cas slid closer and caressed Dean’s neck and he shivered. He pulled him closer between his legs and allowed that tingle in his belly to feel good. Dean grabbed Cas’ hips hard – he wanted to leave bruises – and made sure the guy could feel his half-hard cock. He was just a few seconds shy off wrapping his legs around Castiel when the asshole pulled away and just left. Dean whimpered and he didn’t even care who heard. He opened his eyes – when the hell did he close them? – and Cas was gone. Dean threw some money on the counter and left. Maybe he could still catch Cas, but when he got outside, it was empty. No Cas. He felt stupid and very desperate. So, he drove home. Maybe jerking off would help.

 

\--

 

It hadn’t helped. So now Dean lay on his bed, disgusted with himself. At least he cleaned himself up and changed into his pyjamas. So he wasn’t an utter waste of a person. Still, he thought about Cas. He hadn’t seemed like he’d needed his help after all, now, so why make Dean come? He couldn’t say, and the two kisses and three beers he got out of it didn’t seem satisfying. Well, the kisses had certainly been worthwhile, even though... odd. Dean sighed and decided to not dwell on it. Castiel was weird and should probably be the end of that.

The phone rang, and it roused Dean out of sleep. He only knew he’d been asleep because it was two hours later now. Dean groaned and cursed at the guy calling at ass o’clock. “What” he barked and hoped he scared the other guy into submission and he’d hang up. “Dean”, a wheezing voice replied. “Help me.” Dean was wide awake now. “Cas?” How’d the guy get his phone number? And more importantly, why did he need help? Did this other douche live on the other side of town? “Please. Winston... no. Winester. No. Don’t remember. West... I think. No lights. One... three turns left. Fifteen minutes. 8, I think. Don’t remember. Dean. Please. Help me.” Dean didn’t like the sound of that. “Cas, what happened? Do I need to call an ambulance?” He was already out of bed and pulling his shoes on. He’d need to look at a map, too, if Cas didn’t know where he was exactly. Fifteen minutes, three turns left. House number 8, perhaps. “No!” Castiel coughed. “Please. Just come. Need help. Please.” Dean clenched his jaw. “I’m on my way, Cas. Stay on the phone with me, okay?” There was no reply, but when Dean checked, the call hadn’t shut off. He ran downstairs to his car and pulled a map out.

“Dean”, Cas said. “Yeah, buddy? I’m gonna start driving now, okay? I put you on speaker. I think you’re on Windrush Road, okay? The number’s eight?” Cas made a humming sound. “Herberts. His name’s Herberts.” Dean nodded. “Okay, I’ll look for that name, and then I know if I’m right. You still at his, Cas?” Cas confirmed over the phone and Dean bit his lip. He really wanted to know what happened. “Cas, can you tell me if you’re alright?” “No.” Well, wasn’t that a good thing to know. Dean stepped on the gas pedal harder, willing the car to go faster.

“Okay, Cas, I think I have the right street. I’m gonna go check the names, okay? Can you buzz me in?” There was no reply, but Dean took the phone with him and jumped out of the car. He didn’t even lock it, didn’t waste a thought on that. “Yes”, Cas then said and there was rustling, so Dean assumed Cas got up. He went up to House 8 and scanned the names. “I found him, Cas. Herberts. Are you at the buzzer?” There was no answer, but the door opened anyway. Herberts was on the third floor, so Dean took two stairs with each step.

The front door was open when he finally made it up there and he wasted no time getting inside. “Cas?” He asked into the empty room, just slight above a whisper. “Dean”, came from a half-open door, “here.” Dean followed the voice and found Cas standing next to the bed and... “Is that a freaking dead body?!” Castiel swayed a little on his feet, but Dean didn’t notice. “Yes”, he confirmed. “Move him. The woods. Help me.” Utterly distraught, Dean looked at Castiel. “Did you fucking kill him?” “Yes”, Cas said again and moved toward the head. “Feet. Please. Can’t carry alone.” He slurred pretty bad. Maybe these two sips of Mai Tai made him drunk, after all. Dean looked at Herberts. His throat wasn’t slid, it looked more like stabbed. Dean gulped, but still complied and took the guy’s feet. What the fuck was his life even anymore?

They had to stop a few times on the way back down. It seemed Cas wasn’t that strong after all. He even looked kinda pale. Back outside, they put the guy in the trunk and got in the car. Dean barely waited for Cas to close the door before he drove off. He hoped nobody had seen them. “Where to now?” he asked in a gruff voice. “The woods”, Cas said again. “Take care then.” Dean didn’t answer, just drove faster. Cas leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes.

It took twenty minutes to the nearest woods. Dean didn’t speak, and he didn’t even turn the radio up. Castiel seemed to have fallen asleep, and there was a dead body in the trunk. Dean should freak out and quit this job. If only he didn’t need this stupid shit. Working part-time at Bobby’s didn’t really pay all the bills, and he wasn’t even supposed to deal with the actual death. If he wanted, he could just pretend he was a cab driver or an Uber or whatever. But now he had a freaking dead body in the trunk. And the goddamn murderer sat right next to him, sleeping like it didn’t affect him. Dean pulled over when they reached the tree line. “Wake up”, he said roughly and shoved Castiel’s shoulder. The man jerked out of his slumber and got out of the car. Asshole didn’t even say anything. Dean opened the trunk and got out as well.

He stood next to Castiel and helped getting the body out of his car. “What now?” he wanted to know and Castiel heaved the man on his arms. He seemed to struggle. “Thank you”, he breathed. “Take care now.” He looked at Dean and was that sweat on his forehead? Dean frowned but decided to say nothing. “Yeah... okay. I know nothing, alright? That’s all on you.” Castiel nodded and turned around to step slowly into the forest. Dean didn’t stay to watch.

The next day, when he cleaned the car, he found blood on the passenger side. For a very long time, he just stared at it.

 

\--

 

Four days later, he was waiting on Trevor. He hadn’t heard from Castiel in all that time and when he asked Crowley he said Castiel would not be around for a little while. Was this why Cas had called? Because he’d been hurt? But then why hadn’t he said anything? Dean clenched his jaw. Yeah, well, he hadn’t exactly asked either and Castiel had been _fine_ , right? He had wanted to believe the remnant blood was just from the kill, but it had been too much for that. Damn, Cas must’ve been in pain and Dean didn’t even notice. Or... he remembered thinking how pale the guy, how he seemed to struggle, how much worse the slurring was. And yeah, sure, the dead body had been a shock. Maybe he should’ve tried to view past that, see how Cas was doing? After all, he’d clearly been distressed when he called. So why didn’t he even ask? Dean sighed. He didn’t know. Defeated, he bumped his forehead against the wheel. Gosh, he hoped Trevor wouldn’t take so long anymore; and, more importantly, not fuck it up again. He was scheduled in two minutes.

He heard a door open and thought it to be Trevor. So unlike him, being on time – and them someone pulled him out of the car and rammed him into the wall of the closest building. It took Dean a moment to focus and he felt a knife pressed lightly against him. Too light, and the hand over his mouth was clammy and loose and... “Cas!” He muffled and the guy clenched his jaw. He looked terrible. Glassy, blood-shot eyes, dishevelled hair, sweat on his too pale skin, clothes barely buttoned right and panting to heavily. He was feverish, swaying on his feet and way, way too warm to be fine. “No”, Cas gasped and pressed the blunt side of the knife against Dean. “Run.” Dean didn’t understand. Castiel shoved him away – too weak, too pathetic, just a freaking farce – and jumped into the driver’s seat just as Trevor got in. Not a second later, Castiel drove away, leaving Dean behind. Stunned, he stared after him and then – and then a fire exploded from the building and Dean scrambled and ran.

Everyone would be after that car that just left and, oh God – Castiel had saved him.

 

\--

 

It was the third time that Crowley punched his desk. Dean just sat in his seat and let the man rage. In the ten minutes he’s been here, Crowley threatened to kill Trevor at least fifteen times in thirty-two various methods. He was raging and Dean just waited to be told to leave. He kept thinking about Cas, and hoped he was fine and still free. He could only hope that the police would just find the empty car – he wouldn’t even care if they caught Trevor in the process, he just wanted Cas to get out of this fine.

Crowley then threw him out. At least he didn’t seem to blame him. He hoped, anyway. He should probably get home and hope nobody saw him getting dragged out of that car and then bolting the scene. “Hey-ho, Dean-o.” Dean sighed and turned towards the voice of malice next to him. And there she was: Meg Masters, the bane of his existence. At least around these parts. It had taken Dean years to get Meg off his brother and he still wasn’t sure he actually succeeded. “What do you want, Meg? I’m still keeping Sam away from you, don’t even try. I’ve got bigger problems now, anyway.” Meg chuckled. “Don’t worry; don’t want anything from our little brother. I heard Crowley rage, though. This got to do with Castiel?” Dean frowned. “How do you know about that? I haven’t told anyone.” She shrugged. “Trevor ain’t back yet, and I know Clarence was gonna swipe that car out from under your ass, so I took a pointed guess.” Dean stared at the woman like she’d grown a second head. “You know Cas?” He asked, baffled. She shrugged again. “Yep, I do. Met him about two or three years ago. Tried to hook up with him, too. But he didn’t seem interested in that. He’s still more magnificent that most other monkeys around these parts, don’t you think?” She winked and walked away. She walked away in such a manner that she knew Dean was going to follow her, the stupid bitch.

She led them to the cafeteria. Dean’s never really been here, but it didn’t look like anything special, either. Meg got herself a coffee, taking her sweet-ass time while Dean hovered close like a raging bull. He could swear Meg was making even slower than humanly possible. “Calm your sweet ass, Dean, I’m not going anywhere.” “Could you _please_ hurry it up?”

She moved her butt towards a table and sat down, Dean eagerly following behind. “You know I cause distractions.” Dean nodded. Sometimes, Distracters were added to the job to make escape easier. They had to rotate a lot, lest someone would remember the woman who lost her baby three times after the other. They were generally in use if the hit had to be in a public place, so that attention was diverted towards one specific point and the killer was able to quickly leave, in best case unnoticed. “So, I was watching the clock, so I wouldn’t miss my cue. I was going to look for my very important, very old and very expensive diamond ring. Just as I was starting to frantically look around, this guy steps behind me and tells me I needn’t scream. I was like, oh cool; I have a real reason to scream that’s good. Then he goes on Damian – the guy the hit was on – was already dead and my partner gone as well. I don’t believe him, of course, but then I get a message telling me off.” She took a sip of her coffee. “So I was actually glad that guy stopped me, saved me a lot of embarrassment. And then he invites me for a drink, saying he’s interested in the agency I’m working for. So we went to a Café and I talked. I tell him about Crowley and a bit about our hit list. I don’t care, right? I thought he’d be in our business, with that knowledge and all. He then just asks if I could recommend him to my boss. And as soon as I hear Crowley moan about how useless everyone is, I did.” She shrugged. “You know he could’ve been a cop, right?” She drank a bit of her coffee again. “I know, Dean. He was pretty, I was a weak little girl, can’t blame me, right?” Dean groaned. “Anyway, you saw him. What did he look like? You think they got a hold of him?” Surprisingly, she even sounded a bit worried. “He looked like shit, Meg. I don’t know. He looked really feverish or on drugs, I mean, maybe both, but... I’ve no idea, Meg. I mean, Crowley would know if they got the car, right? Trevor would call his lawyer.” He ruffled his hair and wished he had solid way of contacting Cas. The phone he called him with before was a burner, he knew that, and Cas had likely dumped it somewhere in the forest. Coming to think of it, Dean hadn’t heard about the death of the guy... Herberts, was it. “The guy he killed... he must’ve stabbed him or something. I was so focused on the dead body, Meg, I thought he was slurring ‘cause he had two sips from a stupid girl-drink.” Meg pursed her lips. “Castiel is good money”, she said then. “His handler won’t keep him locked up long. Apparently he can’t even do it properly now, seeing as how he saved your ass.” Dean looked up, confused. “Handler? I didn’t know Cas had a handler.” She sighed. She sighed in a way that told Dean he was stupid. “Yeah, he has a handler. Don’t know the name, though, not that I care. Clarence called him “Uncle” and that’s fucked up enough for my taste. Crowley set the bars with the handler and Castiel then does the job. As far as I know, the handler calls the shot if your lover-boy does the job or not; and from what I hear, that guy prefers the high-profile things. I mean, Castiel is pretty good at them, and Trevor clearly can’t do shit.”

Dean was thinking. If Cas had a handler, why hadn’t he called him with that Herberts man? This “Uncle” likely wouldn’t have freaked out as much as Dean had. “Meg... do you know if our hit list got someone named Herberts?” She frowned. “Huh? Yeah, I think so. Might’ve been a child molester? Or maybe rape? I don’t really remember. I’m sure it was something sexual though. Why are you asking? As far as I know, nobody’s on to that guy. No good bids yet, from what I overheard.” “Do you think Cas kills of his own volition? Like, in his free time?” Meg shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe? I’m not a killer, Dean, so I don’t pretend to know. But Clarence? Clarence is good, Dean, really good. So, if he kills in his free time, I’m almost sure that those people had it coming in more ways then one.”  

 

\--

 

“Dean”, someone said just as Dean wanted to go home. He groaned and turned around. “What do...? Trevor? You’re here?” Trevor nodded. “Where’s Castiel?” Trevor shrugged. “I’m not sure. He tossed me out once we were out of sight; and kept driving like a maniac.” Dean wanted to punch him. Not only for messing up every mark he got, but also for not caring about Cas. That guy saved him, and he could only shrug?! “Here”, Trevor said and handed Dean a white envelope. Dumbfounded, Dean took it. “You asking me to prom? Is this a new form of High School?” Trevor rolled his eyes. “No. I was told to give you that. Said it was real important you get that soon as possible. Even gave me a few bills.” Trevor grinned. “So, deed’s done. You my getaway next time too, yeah? See you then!” Trevor is gone before Dean could process enough to protest. Like hell he’s gonna wait on Trevor even one more time, that little asshole. Sighing, Dean tore the envelope open right there, because why wait? Inside he saw a photo of Sam and frowned. That was... weird. He pulled out the entire content and saw five photos of Sam, some alone, some with his friends and one where he was sleeping in his bed at night. This wasn’t good. Dean’s heart was beating fast and he thought he was going to have a stroke, right here, right now.

_If you want your brother safe, stay away from Castiel._

 

\--

 

“No, Clarence, he ain’t fine. Yes, I know you’re not doing well either. ...how am I supposed to know? Just be lucky I like you so much. No, I don’t think... I don’t know, it’s not like it’s signed... No, just normal ones. I think he’s fine for now. What, you think they wouldn’t send the bloody ones? That’s stupid, Clarence, and you know it. I guess they don’t take someone who’s actually going to be missed. And, plus, it leads to a double-threat, yeah?”

Through a fog, Dean heard a voice. It was a female voice, and he knew it too. “Meg?” he asked and jeez, his voice sounded like a dead mouse. “Oh, hi Dean. Sleeping Beauty woke up? Yes, Cas, I just said that. Hold up and don’t bleed so much.” Meg turned away from the phone and looked over to Dean. He was on a couch, but he didn’t remember HQ to have a couch. Where was he? His memory was a bit fuzzy. “Before you freak, that’s my place”, Meg said and well, that at least explained the location. It didn’t mean he understood but well, beggars can’t be choosers. “First of all, we are fairly sure Sam’s safe and sound.”

For a moment, he was confused. Then he remembered. The photos. The threat. Dean flung off of the couch and grabbed the phone from Meg’s hand. “What the fuck, Cas!” He bellowed in the phone. “Why is someone after Sam, and why do they tell me to stay the fuck away from you? If you piss someone off, you deal with it and let Sam out of it!” He didn’t even let Castiel answer, but threw the phone away. Meg got up from her chair and went to retrieve the phone, shot him a _very_ angry glare and left the room, presumably to talk to Cas while Dean had a breakdown.

 

\--

 

“Dean”, Castiel said while standing in the hallway. He must have come here, after Meg spoke to him again. Dean didn’t want to look at him. He didn’t want to be the reason Sam got hurt. And besides, he was sure that if Cas still looked worse than hammered crap, Dean would want to take care of him. “Dean, Sam is fine. Nobody’s taken him yet, and we won’t let them”, Meg said and Dean clenched his jaw. “Yeah, and then it happens regardless and then what? They hurt him and kill him and it’s my fault, ‘cause how would I go to the police?” He heard Meg sighing and some rustling and assumed Cas shifted on his feet. He wondered if he hurt.

“I will leave”, Cas said and that almost made Dean turn around. “Uncle says I am getting out of control. He wants me back; and I will go.” Dean turned toward the door, just a little bit. “What do you mean? I mean, you still work for him? So why would he need you _back_?” Cas coughed. “He thinks I’m getting my own ideas. That I’m not his pet any longer. So I play. I play for him, so I can crush him.” Dean whipped around, staring at Cas. “But you work for him. I don’t understand.” Castiel glared at him. “I am the price paid.” Dean frowned. Castiel’s features softened. “Uncle owns me. Meg can explain. I will go; and Sam will be safe.” He straightened a bit and nodded to Dean. “Good-bye, Dean.” He didn’t wait, but turned around and left.

His trench-coat flapped behind him.

 

\--

 

“Are we there yet?”

Meg groaned, for the four thousandth time, and Dean was doing it on purpose. After he was able to call Sam and actually verify that he was okay and unharmed – and Sam had been very irritated by Dean’s amount of worry – he was doing a lot better. So now he was sitting in Meg’s car, driving to some undisclosed location and she wouldn’t tell him where they were going. She only said it would be important to Cas.

Dean wasn’t even sure why that made it important to him. He didn’t know Castiel, not really anyway, so why did he care that much? Sure, Cas was strange and had kissed him and that had been awesome, but on the other hand Cas was a killer too. Sam had been threatened because of him and by rule that should make Dean not like him, but here he was, caring about that guy. “Hey, Meg, was Cas always deaf?” Meg hummed. “I don’t know. I don’t think so? I’ve never asked and besides, he does kind of well regardless. I mean, he’s getting better at talking. And I can call him on the phone and he understands me no problem. So maybe it’s not even as bad? Ask him yourself next time, would ya?” Dean grunted. That hadn’t been a fulfilling answer.

“Are we there yet?”

 

\--

 

Meg was leading him through the forest and that didn’t bode well with Dean. Was she planning to kill him? That wouldn’t be nice. And she had a map. Did that mean she’d kill him in a place not even she could find unaided? “Where are we going?” “Shut up, this shit is confusing. Every tree looks the goddamn same.”

“Are you going to kill me?” Meg made an angry growl. “Yes, because I have a habit of dragging people in the fucking forest to kill them instead of doing it somewhere nicer, like in their home or some shit. Would you shut up now?” Dean sighed. That was something at least. And hopefully Meg would be able to read this map backwards, so they could find their way back to the car. Meg growled and he hoped she would not violate the little innocent map.

“Ah, thank fuck!” Meg howled after too many minutes of walking through the forest and Dean looked ahead of her. There was an old, run-down shack that could barely be called a hut or even a cabin. Dean frowned. That made the killing thing a lot more likely, despite what Meg had said. “Uh...” Meg turned to him. “Don’t play scaredy-cat now, lover-boy. It’s for Clarence, so man up and come inside.” Dean wasn’t really happy about that. What would this dead place have to do with Cas? Still, for some reason he resigned himself to his fate and followed Meg inside.

Not that inside was any sort of improvement from outside. Perhaps it even looked worse. Dean wasn’t willing to believe that anyone ever lived here, or that it could be important to Castiel for any other reason than _it’s far away_. “Ugh, it stinks in here. You think it would kill him to clean once in a while.” Dean did a double-take. “Wait... Cas lives here?! As in for real?” Meg frowned. “Yeah, he does. I mean, not when he’s hired, but otherwise he hangs out here, from what he’s said.” “You’re shitting me, right? How could anyone be actually living here? This is a dump! Where does he sleep? Hanging down the ceiling, like a bat or something?” Meg shrugged. “Nah never asked either. Maybe he’s sleeping standing, ‘cause he’s actually a crazy person?” Meg moved through the house and pulled up a hatch from the floor. Dean peered inside but he couldn’t see move. It looked like a bottomless pit. Maybe this had been supposed to be a cellar of some sort, but it was never finished? “Go on, climb down. I’m gonna keep the hatch open, don’t worry.” Dean eyed Meg and for some crazy reason, he did as told and climbed down.

Once he reached the bottom, he looked around. He saw... well, nothing really. “There’s nothing down here”, he reported to Meg. She hummed from where she sat on the edge, her legs dangling over the ladder. “Then come back up, there’s something else worth looking at.” She stood up and Dean hurried climbing the ladder – he didn’t want her closing the ladder on him. He didn’t want to sit in the dark with no way to get out.

She led him to another room and signalled he should open it. He did, and he recoiled. “Are those fucking skeletons?!” He didn’t want to be in this room. If Cas really lived here, why didn’t he throw them out or even better, didn’t live here at all?

“Clarence’s parents were heavy drug addicts”, Meg said from behind him, leaning on the doorframe. “But they were also piss-poor. So they got their drugs from the wrong people, owning them more and more money. Guess what, they could never pay up. So, they get money from the mafia, so they can pay the dealers off. That works for a while, because the mafia always gets her money back. And when the mafia comes knocking, they’re not leaving without their investment. Mommy and Daddy were sure they would get killed, and then they get an offer to good to be true: Mommy was pregnant, and their lives would be spared if they gave them the child. Unsurprisingly, they agree in a heartbeat. Small price, right? And maybe they even get more money for drugs out of that deal, at least until Mommy pops. So they shag here, popping all the drugs they have because they’re junkies and wait. And then, Clarence is born and they want to leave, ‘cause, deal’s done, right? Except the mafia doesn’t let them live. Either they stay and keep quiet or they die. So they stay, because aside being junkies, they’re also huge pussies.

As soon as possible, Clarence gets put down under the hatch, never seeing another soul, barely getting food thrown his way. He’s down there long enough to be able to walk, and then they pull him up. The men from the mafia want to toughen him up, so they give him a beating to get him used to pain. They tell him mafia is family, and that family goes beyond all else and that all they say is law. They put him back down the dark, and they capture animals from the forest to throw down with him, telling him to fight it; and he does.” Meg smirked and looked at him. “He doesn’t know his exact age, but he did tell me he assumed to be seven or eight when he killed a bear.”

Dean looked at the skeletons. “What happened to them? Did they overdose?” “No”, Meg answered. “Castiel killed them before he ran away.”

 

\--

 

“They were making him the perfect killing machine. They tortured him, killed him, just to make sure that no pain would be great enough that he would sell them out to save his life. At age eleven he was better than ten Trevors could ever be in their prime time. They brought him people and he killed them. He couldn’t really talk, though. They never bothered teaching him, so he had to teach himself in secret. Castiel told me the mafia never stayed the night. He knew it was night because then his father would come down the hatch and cut him open with his knives. Family knows best, so he would never protest. He wasn’t made to feel, but he started despising his father. One night, Father dear forgot his set of knives. Afraid he would be accused of anything, Castiel picks the lock on the hatch to return the knives somewhere. But he didn’t know where to put them, so he searched for his father. He found him and mommy in bed, deep asleep. He swore to me that all he wanted was to put the knife-set on the nightstand and leave again. But instead, he took a knife and plunged it into his father’s belly. According to Castiel, he killed him slowly, bleeding him out and removing internal organs while he was still alive. Leaving his father to die, he woke up his mother. He said he killed her quickly. Before she died, mommy told him about a brother. Gabriel. She asked him to find him and protect him, so I guess that’s why he ran away.”

“Why did he go back, then? Didn’t he find Gabriel?”

“He was still just a child, Dean. You must realise your options are quite limited when you’re an unsupervised child asking to see probably sealed records of people whose names you don’t even know. So he wanted to find Gabriel and knew he had to wait until he grew to be more respectable. But the mafia found him first, Gabriel and then Castiel. They threatened his brother and because he was told to protect him, Clarence went back. Dean, he said, you’d know what he means when I’d talk about railroads.”

Yes, he could remember the railroads. So he just nodded. It was for a promise kept and a secret to never tell.

 

~*

 

_His name was Emmanuel, he said. He couldn’t talk very well, but Dean didn’t mind. Emmanuel was an angel, and he was wandering the railroads. At night, he’d take Dean with him and he followed, never quite catching up. He couldn’t tell Sammy, or Dad, or Mom. They wouldn’t understand; they wouldn’t see Emmanuel as the angel he was. Emmanuel came from a dark place and he’s never seen the light and Dean wanted to show him. The boy’s smile was brighter than the sun and Dean wished he had a mirror and he could show the angel his own face._

_At some nights, he invited Dean to dance with him and the fireflies. They played in the dark and wandered the railroads. Dean never feared an upcoming train, because Emmanuel would never put him in danger. He trusted his secret angel. So when his angel said he had to leave, he was heartbroken. He didn’t like good-byes. But the angel needed to keep someone very important safe, and they would meet again. Dean wanted to believe him. His angel was his first secret, and he never wanted to give it up._

_Emmanuel promised that next time, he would take Dean beyond the railroads, to where the fireflies come from. Dean nodded and Emmanuel smiled his bright smile, the one that made the night less dark and scary._

_The boy was wandering next to the railroads. He was a lone creature and it took a while until he was gone from the horizon._

 

_“Tell me you’ll remember me.”_

 

~*

 

Dean was getting anxious. It was probably a bad sign. In this line of work, timing was very much of the essence. So what was this guy taking so long? The boss sold it as an easy in-and-out job, so why the stupid delay? He started tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. If this kept up, he’d be out of gas and they’d be _really_ fucked. So if this guy could please hurry up, that’d be great.

To be honest, he didn’t really want this job anymore. He didn’t want it to begin with, but the offer and the pay had been too good to pass up. And this was still the best-paying job he could find. Yeah, sure, Sam was done with school, but the loans still needed to be paid and they were goddamn huge… so he found himself in a prickle. At least he could gauge for how long he had to do this for. Hopefully Crowley would just send him off.

And this guy still took too long. Did he drown in the toilet or think he could fly?

“Oh dear, hurry up, love, don’t want anyone to see us now.” Dean groaned as Balthazar slipped into the car and hit the gas. This guy was a nightmare.

“It went that bad?” Balthazar sighed. “Well, no, not really. Sure, it wasn’t ideal… I mean, the secretary was so irresistible. I hope she doesn’t remember me. What do you think, Dean? Am I easy to remember? Oh why do I ask, of course I am.” Dean wanted to give up. “Easy to punch is what you are.” Balthazar chuckled, that arrogant cocky asshole. “Still don’t like me? I felt like we have a bond. Or did you only tolerate me because I told you I know Cassie?” Dean clenched his jaw. Yeah, that was party true. He’d certainly like that douche bag a lot less if he hadn’t said something about Castiel within his first two breaths. “Did he call you?” “You know that’s too risky, Dean. I get an update, like, maybe four times a year. Last I know he was polishing his Russian, because that’s where he was going. Now, maybe he’s still there, maybe not. You think he sends me postcards?” The leather of the steering wheel wheezed under his hands. “He could call me.” “And then what, dickhead? You’re frolicking through town? You do know that you’re still watched, yeah? Castiel takes a massive risk sending me any sort of text; and even so he uses the uttermost complicated code that I have serious troubles with. He tosses the phone; and I have to get rid of the texts. Honestly, I’m doing you a courtesy telling you about them.”

Dean rounded the corner and nodded. “Yeah, I know. Meg said the same. How’s Gabriel, by the way?” “Happy-go-lucky as always. I hear his bakery is very popular. You know, when Cassie comes back, we’re all gonna go there and Cas gets to meet his brother. Wouldn’t that be nice?” Dean nodded. “You think it’s gonna be long? It’s been a couple years, now.” Balthazar looked out of the window. “I don’t know, Dean. But when he comes back, I would be sure he’s going to come to you.”

 

\--

 

At HQ, Trevor comes running. Balthazar made a face, because nobody liked Trevor. “Here to pick me up, love? Sorry to say, you’re not my type. And Dean’s taken, sadly. I’d be in if you’d proposed a threesome, though.” Dean rolled his eyes. He’s never met someone quite like Balthazar and he didn’t even want to imagine what a first confrontation between him and Castiel must have looked like. And clearly, Trevor is taken aback. “Err, no, I just got a letter for Dean here. And, oh, Dean, Crowley wants to talk to you. Balthazar, ah, good to… see you?” Balthazar winked and even though Dean didn’t like visiting Crowley, he had to smirk. Trevor was so uncomfortable. He sighed still and went to visit the throne room – why was Crowley the most dramatic bitch in the universe?

“Crowley”, he barged right in without knocking. Crowley wanted to talk and Dean wasn’t in the mood to wait. Crowley looked up and rolled his eyes, then motioned to the chair in front of the desk while he stayed on the phone. Oh, god. A talk that required sitting down? He hated those and really, really hoped nothing bad happened. He couldn’t remember messing up and he always ditched the cars right where he was supposed to… so, it couldn’t be a fault on his end, right?

“So, Dean”, Crowley began after an antagonizing amount of time. “Did you know I got a call today?” Dean frowned, and then looked at the phone. “I think that happens when people own a phone. What, did I butt-dial you?” Crowley rolled his eyes. “No, Romeo. I got a call from your boyfriend.” Dean perked up. “Cas called you? What did he say? Where is he? Why did he call you and not me – ““Alright, Romeo, shut up now. It was a courtesy call, I’ll have you know. He told me he acknowledged my talent as a businessman and thus, he proposed a deal to me: I help him, he helps me. And Dean, it’s like playing on advanced difficulty. Once a month, I pick someone I want dead. No killers, no Intel gathering, nothing. Only I know. And if he can figure out who I picked, he wins. If he fails, I win.” Dean was confused. That sounded stupid. How would Cas ever win that game – Crowley could just choose someone different when Cas came forth? Crowley held up his hand though, as if he wasn’t finished: “I win, he kills someone for me, free of charge. Knowing the angel, it’s probably going to be done before I even knew. He wins, I have to give him every little piece of Intel I have. He’s selling himself short, and I want to take advantage of that.” Dean shook his head, still not understanding: “But why would Cas do that? I mean, why would he give you a deal – what for?” Crowley smiled and Dean didn’t like it whenever that happened. “Because _I_ do deals, Dean. And because I take a bone if it’s thrown to me. It’s obviously just that, Dean – a game, because Castiel doesn’t need any Intel I have. All I have, he can get too, possibly quicker and of higher quality. It’s what this offer is _for_ that I want. If I win, just once, I’ve won it all. Right now, I’m just the king of this town. With Castiel in tow, I will be king of everything. And honey, you should see me in a crown.”

Dean was still confused and wondering if Crowley spoke in riddles. Crowley deflated, clearly expecting more out of Dean and getting absolutely nothing in return. “The deal he made – it’s essentially for the mafia, Dean. If I prove myself, just one time, I’ll be able to be part of it.” “Cas isn’t the mafia, Crowley. He was just forced working for them.” Crowley smirked. “Oh, boy, did nobody tell you? Castiel _is_ the mafia. They all flock to him now, because there’s nobody better than him. He’s located every important cell and took it over and because they’re afraid, they pledged to him. He can’t just pull me into that, Dean. I have to prove myself, and he’s given me that option. Make no mistake, Dean: it will take years, because the angel won’t lose easily. But even if it takes the rest of my life, I will win.”

There was a glimmer in his eyes and he hoped Cas knew what he was doing.

 

\--

 

He’d all but forgotten about the letter, really. For some reason, Dean never considered Crowley to be dangerous, but perhaps… perhaps Crowley was dangerous. And Cas was the mafia now? That sounded not right. He didn’t pretend like he knew what was going on in this world, but still… all he hoped for was that Cas was okay.

Standing in the hallway, Dean opened the letter, hoping it was nothing bad. The last time he got a letter from Trevor, it had been a threat to Sam and that really didn’t need a repetition. The envelope was thinner; at least, so no photos then. Oh, it was just one sheet of paper.

_Hello, Dean._

_Uncle is gone, now. I’m sorry for not contacting you – Balthazar says you’re grumpy. Meg said she showed you the hut and told you a little bit. I hope you weren’t repulsed by it. It’s gone now. I tore it down, because I don’t need it anymore. Do you remember the railroads? I do. I also remember making a promise to you. Do you still want to see?_

_I found them. I found them again and they remember me. I’d like to dance with you again, Dean. You were brave when you came to me. Maybe you could be brave again. I will wait here._

_Castiel_

 

\--

 

The man was wandering next to the railroads. He was a lone creature and it took a while to spot him. It was dark, and Dean smiled. It weren’t the same railroads and technically, no-one could tell him to go to bed. But for old time’s sake, he pretended he was up way past his curfew. It felt like a secret again he couldn’t tell anyone and didn’t want to, either. It had always been a revelation, just for him and him alone.

He approached the man and smiled at him, huffing out air. “Hey, what’s your name?” The man looked up, surprised and then smiled a smile to lighten up the night-sky: “I’m Castiel. Do you want to wander the railroads with me?” He extended his hand and Dean nodded.

This time, Dean didn’t need to catch up, because Castiel wasn’t going to go ahead. He clutched his hand and could barely wait to see the fireflies again.

“You were my first secret, you know. You were all mine, and I would never tell anyone about you.” The smile never left and it made the night not half as dark. “Look”, the angel smiled and pointed to some point ahead. “I promised I would take you beyond the railroads to the fireflies. I’m sorry it took so long, but we’re going to go there now. Did you know they were waiting? Some followed me and some stayed here. What do you think, were they waiting on us?”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, Cas, I think they did. I used to see you from my window and you were my secret angel.” He grabbed his hand tighter. “Let’s not make them wait any longer, yeah?”

They were wandering next to the railroads and Dean never feared an upcoming train, because Castiel would never put him in danger. He trusted his secret angel.

The railroads and the fireflies felt like coming home.

 


End file.
